


Fair

by Larathia



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:39:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larathia/pseuds/Larathia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stalata Negat"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lea_hazel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/gifts).



Alistair wasn't a brooder by nature. He'd worked very hard at that - at not dwelling, not brooding on what might have been or could have been or should have been or ought to be, because _that_ was a guaranteed short trip to crazytown.

Especially in the Deep Roads, surrounded by darkspawn. And their whispering in his tainted mind. Even Sten was runing short on patience for cheerful babble. 

The babble had stopped. Against habit and his better nature, Alistair was brooding. The rubbing he'd taken of the runestone - he'd only meant to take it back to the Shapers, they'd pay good money for that and the army they were building needed all the funding it could get - was weighing on his mind.

The Warden - and it was funny, in a sad way, that she was 'the' Warden when he wasn't only a Warden too but her senior - matched his pace. And, with perverse stubbornness, said nothing at all. And grinned at him, to let him know she wasn't _going_ to say anything, because the burden of starting conversations had always been his and she wasn't going to take it off him now.

"It's not fair," he said flatly. And, as the Warden had probably known, once he started talking he couldn't have stopped for a big cart of pasta. "I just - I never _thought_ about it. The darkspawn come from the deep, and that's a Blight, and they go back down. And we do too, when it's our time. And I knew that and I never thought..." He waved the rubbing of the runestone at her. "I don't know _what_ I thought. Maybe that the Darkspawn just kept going down, that they went too deep to bother anyone. I didn't think..."

"You didn't think that maybe for the dwarves, this whole Blight thing might run in reverse," said the Warden. Calmly, but with a slight wry edge to it. She didn't say, _humans_ , but it was in her tone. 

"It's not _fair_ ," repeated Alistair, in a _don't you start_ tone. "The only reason we're not overrun by darkspawn _all the time_ , if these stones are true, is the dwarves are dying all the time _for all of us_. It's not fair. It's not right. We call the Gray Wardens heroes - and I'd like to think we _are_ , and that we'll prove it again this time - but what we're calling great heroism is _Tuesday_ for a dwarf. It's not fair."

"You keep saying that," noted the Warden with calm amusement. "As if the universe cares about what is fair."

"Maybe it doesn't," Alistair snapped, rare anger surfacing. "But I do."

The Warden raised one Dalish-red eyebrow. "The universe doesn't care what a Gray Warden thinks is fair, either," she pointed out calmly. "But it listens when kings speak."

Alistair stopped dead then, forcing the rest of the (amused, and interested) group to stop around him. "So that's it then? That's how you'd back me into the whole king thing?"

The Warden shook her head. "We have a Blight to stop and a war to win," she said. "I have my priorities straight. I'm asking you what _your_ priorities are. Decide what you want to do with this knowledge and let's move on. We've still got to find Branka."

Alistair looked down at the rubbing again. _Stalata Negat_ , it was called. Shapers making comments about the histories they recorded. He shoved the rubbing into his pack. "Fine," he said. "It's on my to-do list. Whoever ends up running Ferelden, I'll sing badly under their window until they agree to reinforce the dwarves. They don't deserve to die out to let everyone else make cheese."

Morrigan laughed. "Not quite the victory you hoped for, was it, Warden?" she asked. "He hasn't the courage of his convictions. A boy, as ever, shouting at heaven."

The Warden shook her head, reproving, and waved the group to continue their march, as Alistair's ears reddened.

"It's not fair," he grumbled. "But maybe..."


End file.
